Echoes
by reikanobutushi
Summary: a one-shot about L telling Mello his three stories. Contains spoilers for Another Note: Los Angeles BB Murder Cases! Sorry for the sucky summary, story is better than this..


"Mello, wake up."

The eight-year-old Mihael Keehl, known in Wammy's House as Mello, woke up cranky in the middle of the night. He was dressed in simple clothes: a black shirt and jeans.

Who would wake this poor boy in the middle of the night? He looked up at who woke him.

Quillsh Wammy.

Mello immediately jumped out of bed in shock. Why is Wammy,, or referred to as "Watari" by L, here?

"S-sir." Mello sputtered out, bowing down as deep as he can like his teachers taught him to the founder of Wammy's House.

"Mello, L wants to see you." Watari nodded at Mello's bow in approval, a smile playing at his lips.

L? L wants to see Mello? Mello instantly felt hopeful and excited.

Maybe now L would choose Mello as his successor instead of that stupid big shot Near.

Mello started to put on his only pair of worn sneakers but Watari raised his hand to stop him. "Wearing shoes or changing your clothes is not needed, Mello." Watari said to explain his action.

"Ok- I mean – Yes Mr. Wammy." Mello looked up at Watari's glasses, trying to see his eyes through the glasses' glare.

"Please, call me Watari." Watari smiled for real this time, holding out his hand for young Mello to take.

Mello took it without objection. It was an honor to hold the hand of the founder of Wammy's house without an expense.

Watari opened the door of Mello's dorm that he shared with his best friend, Matt. Just before Mello stepped over the threshold of the doorway, he looked back at Matt. The sleeping seven year old still had his glasses and game boy on.

Silly Matt, Mello smiled.

Watari closed the door quietly, then led Mello by the hand down the hall, to the right, now to the left, right…

Mello always forgets each day how huge Wammy's house was. Mello began to think how expensive the mortgage was for this house each month as Watari led him down another hallway. Math and money was always extremely easy for Mello to handle, but it was always easier for Near.

Near. Near was always better than Mello at everything, and that fact ruined Mello's happy thoughts of meeting L for the first time.

"Here we are, Mello," Watari said, snapping Mello out of his not so bright thoughts about Near and opened the door.

It was the piano room. Mello used to take lessons two years ago on the big white baby grand piano that sat in the middle of the large grand room until he got sick of it. He still remembers playing Pachelbell Canon by heart on the ivory keys to the amazement of the teachers.

But that was in the past.

Mello could hear the keys being played softly now, and he looked up.

L.

L was playing softly a classical piece on the baby grand now, hunched over with his feet resting on the piano bench. Mello's old piano teacher wouldn't like that. But this was L, the greatest detective in the world. A teacher's silly comments must mean nothing to him.

Watari cleared his throat.

"L, I have brought Mello."

L stopped playing suddenly, the piano keys still giving off a ringing sound that echoed through the room. Mello wondered if the other children could hear the music in their dreams.

Or nightmares.

"Thank you, Watari." L said. He started chewing on the tip of his thumb, seemingly deep in thought.

Watari pushed Mello forward and stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Quiet. Silence. Hush.

Mello started to wonder why he was there. If he was there for L to tell him that he would be his successor, wouldn't Watari have brought Near too? Mello wondered what Near was doing anyway. Probably dreaming about toys, like Mello sometimes dreams about chocolate. It was their own obsession: chocolate and toys.

And to also step over L.

Mello wondered if Near wanted to succeed L as much as he did. It was often hard, trying to decipher what Near was hoping or thinking about, with his expressionless face and narrowed eyes. It was almost as if Near was mocking Mello.

"Is Mrs. Pender still here as a teacher?" L's voice echoed through the room. Mello observed that every sound that occurred in this room bounced off the walls, creating the sound to repeat itself.

Enough about the theory of echoes. L just asked Mello a question about Mrs. Pender, otherwise known as the current piano teacher.

"…Yes." Mello answered. Mrs. Pender, the always old, demanding, strict piano teacher. Part of the reason Mello refused to take piano lessons anymore was because he hated Mrs. Pender. Sometimes on rainy days where Mello couldn't go outside, he would spread nasty rumors about Mrs. Pender that she was old witch that sucked the youth from your hands, making them old, old, _old._

"Hmm… very interesting. I would think that Mrs. Pender would have died by now…" L said. He sighed. "But I must have underestimated her will and… stubbornness not to die."

Mello smiled. "Did you ever take piano lessons from her?" He asked.

"Fortunately not," L stood up, his back hunched over and his toes curling. "I have met her on several occasions though…" L walked over to one of the many glass tables that were scattered throughout the room. Mello noticed then that the particular table L was walking towards had a teapot and two empty cups resting on the surface.

"Mello," L gestured towards Mello. "Please come situate yourself on one of these chairs. You must be tired from being waken in the middle of the night."

Mello then realized that his legs were extremely tired for standing without any movement for the past ten minutes. Mello gratefully walked over to one of the mahogany chairs facing the table. L was seated in one of the chairs by now in the same hunched position he was on when he was sitting on the piano bench. He was putting sugar cubes in his cup of – coffee? Mello didn't know it was possible for a person to drink coffee late at night.

"Would you like some tea, Mello?" L asked Mello. Mello nodded out of politeness. To Mello, tea just tasted like water, except blander.

L pushed a already made cup of tea towards Mello, and Mello, out of fear and manners, took the steaming cup and sipped it.

Sweet. Not at all like the tear the lunch ladies served regularly at lunchtime at Wammy's House.

Sweet… like chocolate. Mello quickly drained the cup and set it back down on the table surface.

"Um… Mr. L…?" Mello timidly addressed L. L himself was amused by the name Mello gave him.

"Yes, Mello?"

"What is your reason for calling me here?" Mello phrased his question carefully.

"…" L was thinking carefully on how to respond. If L told Mello that his reason was "I wanted to evaluate one of my top candidates for being my successor," (which really was his reason), L would be giving Mello unneeded hope. But if L told Mello his reason was "I just wanted to talk to you," that would make Mello, being an eight year old, hopelessly bored.

"… I want to tell you three stories." L finally responded.

Stories?

"About…?" Mello dropped all formality in the haze of his exhaustion of being up in the middle of the night.

"Cases that I solved… two of them are actually considered wars between me and others…" L said.

Mello leaned forward eagerly. He knew it was an honor just to hear L's voice through a computer, but L was now speaking to Mello _in person. _

L liked Mello's reaction. Even though L wasn't the story teller type, he was good at details, and as he told his three stories to Mello – about the L.A.B.B. Murder Cases, the Bio-terror case that he solved in the rivalry of the two other greatest detectives in the world, and the Winchester Mad Bombing, L's first case – L could see that Mello was soaking up every word, every detail, every quote that L said. Observation and listening skills are very important, and Mello seemed to have a substantial amount of both.

"…And so, Beyond Birthday lost to Naomi Misora, and he received a life sentence in prison." L finished his last story. He waited for Mello's reaction.

"...Why did Beyond Birthday want to kill himself?"

"To complete his plan. I would think that he did not want to live at that point, having the shinigami eyes and always reminded of death...." L looked at the baby grand piano. "But now he is serving his penance in jail, thanks to Naomi Misora."

"But for Ms. Misora to solve the case at the last minute… that was luck, right?" Mello said to L the first time since L started telling the three stories.

"In some views, yes, it was luck." L answered, finally finishing his cup of coffee.

"Have you ever heard from Ms. Misora again?" Mello asked.

"Yes, a few days later." L had to smile at the thought. "I… to tell the truth I was testing out my capoeira on her, and I found out that day that watching videos about capoeira differed from actually experiencing it."

Mello laughed. He wondered if L's capoeira's skills improved by now.

L noticed that Mello's laugh was strained and tired by many hours of being awake He looked at the tall grandfather's clock standing across from his side of the room.

The clock said 3:47.

Classes for Mello and all the other students started at 8:00, meaning that if Mello went to sleep right now, he would only get 4 hours worth of sleep.

"Mello," L addressed Mello.

"Mhm?" Mello yawned.

"You should get some rest. A young boy like you should be getting at least 8 hours every night in order to get strength and grow." L said. He pressed a button that Mello just noticed was also on the table surface.

Immediately Watari came through the door. Mello wondered if Watari was a robot or if he drank coffee at night just like L did.

"Yes, L?" Watari asked L.

"Please escort young Mello to his dorm and make sure that he will be excused from all of his classes today."

"Yes Sir," Watari immediately responded. He looked at Mello, and Mello hopped down from the chair and went to him.

Watari took Mello by the hand again and led him out of the room.

L looked after them until Watari shut the door. He continued chewing his thumb while h

"Hmm… Mello has a five percent chance to become my successor…" L observed.

"But… Near only has a three percent chance." L grinned.

* * *

Mello woke up to the ringing of his cell phone.

"Aargh… who the hell is it…?" Mello looked up. He had fallen asleep at Matt's kitchen table. Papers littered the floor, the table, the counter, everywhere.

He picked up his cell phone and flipped it open.

"It's me." Matt said. "I found Takada's current location. She's being driven to her TV station. She should be there in about…" Mello could hear Matt muttering math figures under his breath. "…An hour."

"Ok Matt, I'll be there." Mello flipped his phone closed.

An hour. An hour. An hour.

Mello had his plan carefully laid out, and now it was about to go into action. Mello knew his life was at stake, so was Matt's.

But he had an hour to do what he pleased, to do what he wanted before he put his life on the line.

Mello had one of those dreams last night – those dreams that are actually memories that appear before you, like a long lost friend.

Or enemy. These dreams – memories – can haunt you, rip you apart, but yet you feel euphoria when you're in pieces. Mello learnt that the hard way so many times before.

Mello had to write down what L told him in his memory. He just had to.

He picked up a blank sheet of paper from the floor, his rosary that he prayed on often making a tapping sound as it hit the table again and again. Mello took out a fountain pen from his pocket.

What L said flowed into his head like a stream, ushering Mello to write it down.

_When Beyond Birthday committed his third murder he attempted…_

Mello started to write in his rushed cursive – the only style of writing he was ever taught. While he wrote, he wondered if L ever did choose his successor in his mind, that brilliant mind that all students at Wammy's House longed to have…

Again, Mello wondered what Near was doing right now. Probably playing with his stupid toys while ordering his SPK members around.

That prick. Mello gritted his teeth as he wrote

_The person who will most likely read this first will probably be that big-headed twit Near. But if that's the case…_

Mello was never good at writing but he always managed to get straight As in writing class.

He thought about what he lost and gained during this dreadful Kira case.

He lost L. Mello lost L, that eccentric young man with untidy hair and his voice that seemed to frighten yet amaze young Mello at the same time.

He gained the right to succeed L, just by meeting him and L dying.

Mello's pen made scratching sounds as it created words across the paper, creating small inky blots along the way.

He lost his base. He gained a scar, that scar that still burned sometimes when Mello remembered any pains that was inflicted on him during his life.

The pain.

Pain, Pain Pain.

Pain will never go away, never.

Never. Mello encountered a lot of pain during his life: Heartbreak, physical wounds, physiological pain, and the scars…

But the pain that hurt Mello the worst was his dreams – or nightmares. They kept repeating themselves to him when he slept, and they started to follow him even when he was awake.

It was agonizing. Mello wanted them to go away, to stop, Stop, STOP.

But they wouldn't. They mocked him, following him around.

Mello was constantly reminded that he broke his one love's heart out of his selfishness, that he killed dozens, that he betrayed his friends. He wondered if this was _his_penance, being constantly followed around by his own demon, a spirit that was worse than any shinigami.

Mello wrote one final sentence before the tears started to escape.

_Good memories and nightmares…_


End file.
